


Let Slip the Dogs of War

by PanBoleyn



Series: The Iron Gauntlet and the Silk Glove [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-01 03:17:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15133910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanBoleyn/pseuds/PanBoleyn
Summary: The War of Four Kings has begun, with a Lannister in every camp, families divided by battle lines, and too many crowns. There are negotiations to be made, battles to be fought, and all the while a danger looms only one person can warn of.A Clash of Kings in the Iron and Silk timeline.





	1. Starting Line

“Stannis is crowned,” Robb says heavily, seeming to sink into his chair. Catelyn looks at her uncle Brynden, who appears as troubled as Robb is - as she is, too. Edmure looks pensive. “Stannis is crowned, and the letter he sent across Westeros proclaims Cersei’s children to be the products of incest with her brother. And I’ve just been made king of half the realm.” 

  
  


“You couldn’t have waited,” Edmure says. “That much was clear. I blame King Stannis for delaying his announcement. He should have contacted you as soon as he knew you were marching. And your father’s bastard, why didn’t he?” 

  
  


“Because Stannis forbade anyone at Dragonstone from writing the news of the incest before he was ready to declare it, and by the time Jon got to Starfall and decided to write anyway, his raven came too late. Stannis is his stepfather, and Jon was in his castle. He had no choice. But it hardly matters why no one wrote sooner. What is important is what now. I can’t simply lay aside my crown - my bannermen would never trust me again. The riverlords might not be as strident, but I can’t imagine they would find it easy to stomach either.”

  
  


“Stannis is your goodbrother,” Catelyn says, and again she must find herself grateful for the ghost of Ashara Dayne and her past with Ned that is personified by Allyria. “You are natural allies. For now, we can try to negotiate a temporary truce - you recognize him as the King on the Iron Throne, but not that he has any rights to rule the North and Riverlands. It will allow us to work together to defeat the Lannisters, and time to work out the best long-term arrangement.”

  
  
  


“What of the Vale?” Robb asks, looking at Uncle Brynden. “You lived there for long years. Do you think they will side with us once Robin gets my letter?”

  
  


“Robin was fostered with Lord Stannis, but he and his cousin Harry are good lads,” Brynden says carefully. “Many of the lords on the regency council remember your father well, so their sympathies could well be with us. I wrote to Robin frequently when he was living in the Dragonstone household, and he knows well that he is half Tully. He will not come against us, but it is possible that his regency council will decide the Vale is best served by neutrality. Unlike us, they have that option, to wait out this conflict to see which king is victorious.”

  
  


“But they may join with us. Cousin Robin could be King of the Vale if he liked, who am I to say he must bend the knee to me? From what Maester Luwin taught us, I can guess many of the Vale lords might object to being ruled by Winterfell.”

  
  


“It might be wiser to see if he will bend the knee, before agreeing to an alliance that makes him a king on equal footing,” Brynden says. “Robin is young, and though far healthier now than he was before he was fostered, he is still a delicate boy. His sister Alayne is his heiress now, but she’s a babe at the breast.” 

  
  


“Either of them will require a regency council who are unlikely to feel as beholden to us with their young Arryn a monarch,” Catelyn agrees. “Honor will bind the lords of the Vale, yes, but not irrevocably. The next heir is Harry Hardyng, who is of age to rule alone, but he is wed to a Royce and so we cannot even bind him to us with a betrothal. The best thing would be to have Robin do you fealty as his king, and thus tie the Vale firmly to our cause, rather than rely simply on kinship.” 

  
  


“But do I have the right to demand it?” Robb asks. “My bannermen and Grandfather’s crowned me by acclaim, I am the heir to any Northern crown by being a Stark, and in the line of succession for Riverrun even if under normal circumstances I’d never be suffered to inherit.” 

  
  


That, Catelyn knows, is true. It’s one reason why Bran was to foster at Riverrun - Edmure had wanted to groom him as a potential heir, thinking that Father in his illness would rest easier knowing there is a young heir of his blood until such time as Edmure marries and fathers his own children.

  
  


But Robb is also right. There were, she knows, some in the North who felt they should have declared independence during the Rebellion, and as far as many more were concerned, the southron kings have always been all but irrelevant to them. So to swear fealty to the Stark in Winterfell as a king rather than a lord doesn’t change much. 

  
  


As for her father’s bannermen, well… The Riverlands never could keep a royal dynasty for long, and are traditionally more used to being ruled by an outsider than the other kingdoms. Bowing to an outsider king who is half a Riverlander is more palatable than some of what her ancestors and theirs have had to bear in generations past.

  
  


But the Vale has its own proud history - a powerfully  _ Andal  _ history, moreover, while the North is proudly of the First Men and even the castles of the Riverlands have more godswoods (unused as holy places, save for that at Raventree Hall, but still there are more) than do those of the Vale. There are the Royces, of course, whose Faith is leavened with something older.

  
  


_ “I confess, years of having to attend the sept on the holiest occasions, so as not to shame my foster father, the only time I ever felt at ease was when we visited Runestone. Their worship of the Seven is different, there is something of the old ways in it, and their god statues are made of weirwood.” _

  
  


The memory of Ned, talking of his time in the Vale, makes Catelyn’s heart ache. But it is a good memory of their earlier days when their love was still forming, and so she forces herself to hold to the warmth of it. And, even more, to the usefulness of it. “We need the Royces,” she hears herself say. “Lord Yohn is the head of Robin’s regency council, and the Royces have married into House Stark more than once. Of the Vale lords, Bronze Yohn is most likely to lead the way to us - is he not?” she addresses Brynden with that last, because he knows those men even as Ned did.

  
  


“I think so. We must send someone to the Eyrie to treat with the council in general, and Lord Royce in particular. Especially since Lord Stannis will definitely do so.”

  
  


“We should send someone to Dragonstone too,” Edmure says. “Or Storm’s End, perhaps, since I can’t see how we’d get a person to Dragonstone safely, and the island is still closed off, I believe. So any envoy who was sent there might be trapped.”

  
  


“What of Highgarden?” Robb asks. “Sansa -” 

  
  


“Mace Tyrell will never side with anyone who might oppose his favorite children, and they are both firmly with Renly,” Brynden says.

  
  


“But approaching Lord Tyrell might induce him to play the diplomat between us,” Catelyn points out. “As someone with connections to both sides, he would be well placed to do so and he is a vain man who would like the boost to his reputation should it work. Sansa will do her best for us with Willas, I am certain, but as heir he can only do so much.” 

  
  


“The Tyrells have their own problems. The Florents are siding with the Lannisters, and took a good chunk of Reachmen with them,” Brynden adds. “The word is Joffrey’s going to marry a half-Florent girl who’s also some kind of Lannister kin. They won’t be as much help to Stannis as Renly likely counted on, much less help to us. Their girl who was to marry Joffrey is a hostage now. Better to focus our efforts on the Vale right now.”

  
  


Robb nods, his face grim.    
  


 

Once Brynden and Edmure have left, Robb turns to her. “Mother, will you go back to the Vale?” 

  
  


_ No _ , Catelyn wants to say.  _ I need to be here if Rickon is found, they will send word here first if he is not brought here. I need to be here for news of Bran. I need to be here for my father. _ Winterfell is no longer her place - it is Allyria who is Robb’s queen and Lady of Winterfell. She should be here to watch over her father, to help Robb, to be on the spot for news of her younger sons. Bran is at Casterly Rock, this they know, and the only good in that is that Tion Frey, a Lannister cousin who knows his family well, told Robb that Bran was better off at the Rock. _ “My mother runs things when the men are gone. She’ll treat Prince Bran properly, as a highborn hostage ought to be treated, especially as we have Cousin Jaime and, and my brother Cleos. Joffrey… Joffrey would not do the same, if he decided he preferred not to,” _ the young man had said, looking like he would rather be anywhere else, but knowing he was the only one who could set their minds somewhat at ease.

  
  


But Rickon… No one knows where Rickon is. They know Joffrey does not have him - she must be grateful to Jon Dayne for what little information he had, who wrote that Ned was going to send Rickon from the Red Keep immediately. Catelyn has to believe one of Ned’s men escaped with her youngest son, that even now they are making their way north. She has to believe it because if her boy was alone on the streets of King’s Landing, then he is now almost certainly dead. Rickon is only seven; boys of seven years do not survive alone for long.

  
  


“My place is here,” she says. “Here, with my father, and where word of Bran or Rickon will come first.” 

  
  


“There’s no one else I can send who I trust,” Robb counters. “I need Uncle Brynden for my battle plans. I’d prefer to keep Uncle Edmure here too, in order to help keep the riverlords happy, but if I must send him to treat with a potential ally I will send him to Stannis. That seems… wiser, given all our complicated histories. I could send the Greatjon to the Vale, of course.” 

  
  


Catelyn hides a smile. It’s fairly obvious manipulation, of course, but even the idea of that is worrying. The Greatjon is one of Robb’s fiercest men, and his prickly honor would not do well against the Vale lords who are just as bad. “Very well, Robb.” 

  
  


<><><>

  
  


“Your cousin has crowned himself King in the North - or rather, his bannermen acclaimed him as such, and your grandfather’s bannermen followed suit. So, actually, he’s King of the North and Riverlands, but I suppose that’s not the historical title,” Harry says, reading the letter Robin hands him. “He wants you to join him, but does he want the Vale to declare its own independence or join in with his new kingdom?

  
  


“As you can see, he doesn’t say,” Robin says, slumping in his chair. He doesn’t feel well - he’d had one of his fits this morning, and though even now he’s better than he was before he left to be fostered, the truth, the grim truth is that his family seat is unhealthy for him. He’s considered more than once moving his household to the Gates of the Moon - Harry is in favor, for the sake of his health if nothing else - but… It seems unwise, when Robin is already less than ideal as the new Lord Arryn, to also choose to live in the castle usually held by younger sons or cousins, or heirs before they inherit. 

  
  


Of course, the Gates of the Moon  _ was  _ the ancestral seat of House Arryn before the Eyrie was built and remains their winter castle to this day, but Robin has spent years in the household of Stannis Baratheon. Though Stannis rarely spoke of the insult done to him in being given Dragonstone while Renly holds Storm’s End, everyone in the family knew of it. Stannis blamed Robert, of course, not Renly, but he had been ever keenly aware of the stain of it. And that was a case where, as it was King Robert, the slight might not even have been intentional, but a simple case of thoughtlessness.

  
  


How much worse would it be if Robin effectively disinherits himself, _ on purpose _ , especially for health reasons? Harry says the Vale would rather have a Lord who lives a long healthy life at the Gates than one who dies young in the Eyrie, but Robin is not convinced. “I don’t think my bannermen are inclined to make me a king, but… There is great anger here, against the Lannisters.” 

  
  


“Not least because they stole your title as Warden of the East, and gave it to Jaime Lannister,” Harry agrees. “So Robb sent this raven directly to you, rather than to the council? Do you think that was your aunt’s influence?” 

  
  


“That or he just thinks that an appeal to family ties is best done with a direct letter to me. The truth is, it’s a tempting idea, to join with him. I’m not at ease with the idea of bowing to a Stark king, but it isn’t so different from bowing to a Baratheon, and better than bowing to a second Baratheon who is more Lannister than anything else. Joffrey doesn’t even look like a Baratheon.”

  
  


“And, you would be first cousin to this king. A true kingdom of the northern regions of Westeros would be powerful enough to hold off the rest.”

  
  


“You’re missing something in all of this.”

  
  


“What - oh. Lords Stannis and Renly. They didn’t come to court to swear to Joffrey either, did they? So… what  _ are  _ they doing?”

  
  


“Well, no one knows,” Robin says quietly. “I grew up on Dragonstone, I know them. Both Lord Stannis and Lord Renly deeply disapproved of Joffrey - I overheard Renly saying to Lady Ashara once that all of Westeros would be better off if Tommen were the elder and not Joffrey. But - if it was just Renly, he might convince himself to rebel, but Stannis won’t.” 

  
  


“He rebelled against King Aerys.” 

  
  


“For his brother’s sake, yes. But he won’t rebel against his brother’s rightful heir no matter how much he might despise Joffrey.”

  
  


“Then what’s he doing?” Harry asks, exasperated. 

  
  


“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Robin says, rubbing his temples. Gods, he’s too young for this. But even though he has a regency council, they are held to their duty by Lord Yohn Royce, and that duty is to train Robin up to proper lordship. So he will have to have opinions, he will have to have an argument, when he brings this letter from his cousin before his regents.

  
  


Now he has to figure out what those opinions will be.

  
  


<><><>

  
  


“No,” Cersei says flatly. “I may have to accept that Father has named you Hand in his stead, but I will not allow you to take my son from me.” 

  
  


Tyrion bites back a sigh, searching for patience. “This is Father’s order. He wants Tommen safe at the Rock.” 

  
  


“He is safe in the Red Keep, in my care,” Cersei insists. 

  
  


“No one is saying you won’t protect your children.” Tyrion is quite certain Cersei would not willingly let her sons come to harm, but that is neither here nor there. “But if we should lose this city, Joffrey and his current heir cannot be in the same location, Cersei! You have the letter, this clearly comes from Father. I don’t know why you assume the worst of me when it comes to your children, but surely you do not assume the same of him?” 

  
  


She ought to assume the worst of their father if she did of anyone. Tyrion, after all, does not have the taste for  _ ‘sharp lessons’ _ that Father has. Tyrion’s always assumed Cersei hated him for the same reasons as their father - he is a dwarf, and his mother died birthing him. But sometimes he thinks that cannot be all of it.

  
  


“I have already had to give up Myrcella, and now she is in the hands of our enemies. I will not give up another child. What if Tyrell or Baratheon forces steal him on the goldroad?” Cersei demands. 

  
  


“What if Stannis and Renly take the city and behead both of the boys?” Tyrion snaps, out of patience. “Think, Cersei. Even Mad Aerys knew well enough to have his heirs apart, and so there are still Targaryen claimants in the world.” 

  
  


“Not anymore. The Beggar King is dead.” 

  
  


Yes, that had been a tidbit brought by Varys, at the last meeting of the small council. “His sister lives. The Targaryens might have rejected queens before, but even assuming Daenerys Targaryen knows that, she is the last Targaryen and might decide such rules don’t count.” 

  
  


“She hasn’t a prayer of claiming anything,” Cersei scoffs. 

  
  


Tyrion wonders about that. Varys also said that the girl’s husband, Khal Drogo, was dead, but that she had defied the Dothraki tradition of widowed khaleesis going to their city, Vaes Dothrak, to live permanently. She could, of course, simply be choosing to live out her life as an exile somewhere more congenial than among Dothraki, or she could be scheming for the throne. With two claimants for the Iron Throne, as well as the North and Riverlands declaring independence under the Stark banner, a clever Targaryen could sell herself as a compromise candidate.

  
  


“That is not the point. She’s still alive, and if she has children, they could follow in the Blackfyres’ footsteps. If the worst should happen and we lose this war, we need to give ourselves options. Removing Tommen to the Rock is just such an option. We can’t get Myrcella.” At least, he doesn’t  _ think  _ they can, but it’s something to look into. 

  
  


“Joffrey must remain here,” he continues. “But Tommen does not need to be here. Aunt Genna will care for him.”

  
  


Cersei is silent for a long time. “If anything happens to him I’ll have your head,” she snaps, and walks out of the council chamber. 

  
  


Tyrion sighs, rubbing his aching forehead.  _ At least she agreed. _ But removing Tommen is in many ways the least of his concerns. There’s a city defense to worry about, and a wedding to plan. The city is no longer starving, thank the gods, due to food from their Reach allies, but times are still lean. Joffrey must marry young Rohanne, though, and he thinks they can use the wedding as a distraction for the cityfolk. But overdoing it could inflame them again.

  
  


He’s been told there were riots, before the food began coming in. They have some supplies coming in - Uncle Kevan has begun pillaging the Stormlands so he doesn’t need most of the supplies originally meant for him, and sent them to the capital. He’s ordered the kingswood be open for hunting and there’s always fish coming in. The city should hold, that’s something. They have no liking for his family, it’s true, but neither are they particularly fond of Stannis. 

  
  


But the wedding must needs be public. It will be a declaration that the Baratheon-Lannister dynasty (the Lannister dynasty, Tyrion knows) is strong and confident. 

  
  


A delicate balance, and one he is unused to finding. Lannisters are ostentatious, after all. The Reach is if anything worse, so there won’t be any help from that quarter. He finds himself thinking of the welcoming feast at Winterfell, boisterous revels but somehow… less refined, and far less gaudy. Hmm. 

  
  


As if that weren’t enough, there is the city’s defense. Cersei talks of wildfire, which makes Tyrion nervous. Oh, it’s an excellent weapon, that’s true enough, and given they have only the City Watch and a pitiful remainder of a royal navy - Stannis housed much of it at Dragonstone, and so it is his now - they need every possible option they can manage. Still, it’s dangerous, and he thinks her idea of just flinging jars of it at any attackers is a bad one. First, what if they miss? Second, regular fire arrows or lit oil jars will do similar damage. Not as fierce, for normal fire can be extinguished, but wildfire is so chancy that he almost prefers it. After all, what if someone misses? 

  
  


Still, there must be something… Practice, surely. If they do use the wildfire, he’s going to make certain that anyone who handles it will  _ know what they are doing _ . 

  
  


Still, Tyrion is making it one of his priorities to visit the alchemists as soon as possible, to learn all he can of wildfire from the experts. Then he should have a better idea of how to proceed. 

  
  


There is one more question, of course. Tyrion now has in his possession the Valyrian steel dagger with a dragonbone hilt used to murder Ned Stark. Tyrion ponders the issue as he makes his slow, awkward way back to his chambers in the Tower of the Hand, dodging Lady Tanda Stokeworth on his way. 

  
  


Someone murdered Stark, but why? He was the best bargaining chip they had to deal with the Northerners, even before Robb Stark captured Jaime. Was it someone with reason to keep the Starks and Lannister at each other’s throats? That’s certainly the best story to tell, blame it on Stannis and Renly framing the Lannisters so that the Starks won’t ally with Robert’s true heir. Robb Stark is crowned by the acclaim of his own lords and his grandfather’s rivermen; Stannis is unlikely to tolerate that in the long term, but if Renly and Ashara convince him to overlook it long enough to crush the Lannister forces then they are undoubtedly doomed. 

  
  


Jon Dayne complicates the issue, but on his own, surely he can’t bring the two camps together if enough mistrust can be sown. Sansa Stark Tyrell is also a complication, but the Reach has enough of its own problems, thankfully.

  
  


But that reasoning is for Tyrion to direct Varys to spread out across the land. What he needs here is the  _ real  _ truth. Stannis wouldn’t do such a thing and neither would Ashara. Renly… might, for all that Tyrion is still fond of Renly he knows this, but in this case he also knows Renly would have seen the stupidity of such a risk and not done it. The Baratheons needed Ned Stark alive, because he’d worked out the truth about Cersei’s children. His word would be helpful, Tyrion knows; Stark was Robert’s oldest friend, after all. 

  
  


So, who stands to benefit from ensuring that the Starks and Lannisters do not find a truce? Who benefits from the Lannisters framing the Baratheons? Because Tyrion isn’t lying to himself that his plan to blame the Baratheon camp is anything but predictable. The point is to sow just enough mistrust to keep their enemies from making common cause. 

  
  


That means that whoever did this has some kind of vested interest in making sure there are as many factions as possible. Who could that be? He supposes there’s a slim chance there could be Targaryen loyalists behind it, but if there are then Daenerys Targaryen doesn’t know about them, or didn’t when Jorah Mormont last reported to Varys. Could there be other Targaryens, more distant, out there? Balerion, son of Aerion, disappeared after he was passed over for the crown, and there are probably people with Blackfyre blood scattered around Tyrosh, but that seems unlikely in the extreme.

  
  


The Martells are a possibility - they have distant Targaryen lineage themselves, and good reason to hate every member of Robert’s coalition. They also have Myrcella, and could be planning to rule through her. Damn. He really should think of ways to steal her back. 

  
  


There are other houses with Targaryen blood in their histories - his own is one, for they are related through their mother’s mother to Viserys Plumm, who wed Bloodraven’s sister and was likely Aegon IV’s bastard as well as the son of Elaena Targaryen. But none of them have it very recently, and except for the Daynes none of them have the influence to have managed it. 

  
  


The knife belonged to Robert. There is, Tyrion has to admit, a possibility that a Lannister was responsible. Not Cersei or Jaime or himself, but Joffrey. He was mistreating Elinor Tyrell, Tyrion would wager all the gold in Casterly Rock on that, and by arranging the match to Rohanne Osgrey he’s likely set up his young cousin - distant as she is - for abuse as well. He cannot let himself feel guilty for that. It was necessary. 

  
  


Tyrion could see Joffrey wanting to kill Ned Stark, but the little monster would want it public, or at least to declare it publicly. He hasn’t, and so Tyrion is all but certain he can rule his nephew out. 

  
  


But then,  _ who _ ?

  
  


<><><>

 

“ _ Who _ is here?” Ashara asks Ser Ambros Sunglass. He is Lord Sunglass’ youngest son, and Ashara has made him captain of the guard now that the men had left. Stannis and Renly are gone to Storm’s End to rally the stormlords in response to news that Robb Stark is crowned King in the North by his bannermen and his Tully grandfather’s. 

  
  


Neither of them had said much about the newest king in the land, but Ashara knows her husband. She’d asked both Renly and Davos to speak with him, to try and convince him to make a temporary alliance for the sake of defeating the Lannisters. In fact, she is even now composing a letter to her little sister, the Lady of Winterfell, to see where they might find common ground. 

  
  


Though she does not address Allyria as Queen in the North, instead signing herself as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

  
  


Still, just now the letter is not foremost on her mind. Right now in the Sea Dragon Tower, her gooddaughter is days away from giving birth to Ashara’s first grandchild, and now Ambros Sunglass is declaring that Joy’s cousin has come to Dragonstone. 

  
  


“Ser Tyrek Lannister, Your Grace,” Ambros repeats. “He is accompanied by three men he claims are his bastard brothers. They say they have come to pledge their fealty to King Stannis.” 

  
  


“Bring them to the audience chamber,” Ashara orders, her brisk tone hiding her surprise. A Lannister defecting to them? The boy is either principled or foolish - Tywin Lannister will never forgive such a betrayal should he win this war. But as Ashara sets her crown upon her head and goes to meet the young men waiting for her, she realizes this shouldn’t be such a surprise. 

  
  


Tyrek Lannister has always been devoted to his cousin, and he seems to rather like Jon as well. There are moments when Ashara had seen him watching her son and his bride with what she’d thought was jealousy, but it wasn’t. She isn’t certain even now what it had been, but on balance she… isn’t surprised. 

  
  


All four young men bow to her deeply, and do not rise until she gives permission. Tyrek is the youngest of them, yet by virtue of his legitimate birth he is the spokesman of the group. “Your Grace, my brothers and I have come to pledge our swords and those of our companions to you.” He introduces his brothers, Perran, Aymery, and Rhys Hill. They all have the green eyes of Lannisters, but thick dark hair and freckled faces - though with fine Lannister features, for the most part - that suggest all three have the same mother.

  
  


Ashara can remember Tygett Lannister, and she isn’t surprised at all that he had a long-term mistress, like his brother Gerion. The only surprise is that he’d bothered to marry and produce Tyrek before dying of the pox. 

  
  


But their names aren’t so important. “Well met. But you speak of companions?”

  
  


Tyrek looks proud of himself, yet almost sheepish too, as if he feels he shouldn’t be proud. “Perran served in my cousin Cersei’s household guard, Rhys in the City Watch. Aymery is a sailor. Over the past few years, we have all made friends, and we have sellsails enough to crew three ships, as well as three dozen fighting men who left the city with us. I know the force is small, Your Grace, but they are good men.” 

  
  


“And some have multiple skills,” Rhys says. He seems to be the boldest of the three Hills, though it is Aymery who Ashara thinks bears most careful watching - he is the one who seems to be the most watchful himself, after all.  “Gendry’s a smith, and his master taught him the trick of reforging Valyrian steel, so you know he’s skilled. Others among my cityfolk have various skills that can be put to use in war camp.”

  
  


“I bring several knights who served at the Red Keep, mostly hedge knights I admit, but a few who are like me, younger sons and heirs of younger sons with nothing to inherit. The rest are guardsmen, either from the Lannister guard at the palace or the City Watch. But they are ready to fight as proper soldiers,” Tyrek says, with all the confidence of a Lannister. If Ashara suspects some of it is feigned, well, she doesn’t think this defection is. 

  
  


“Joy will be glad to know you are here, Ser Tyrek,” Ashara says, and is proved right by how his face lights up. 

  
  


Knowing what Stannis has worked out about Cersei and Jaime, if she did not know Joy to be besotted with Jon, she might worry about the arrival of this charming young cousin. As it is, she thinks she may want to ensure that, once Joy is delivered, they are chaperoned when they meet.

  
  


But for now, she sends the young men off with Ambros Sunglass and Cressen’s apprentice Maester Pylos to get themselves settled in, and returns to her solar. She folds and seals her letter to Allyria and begins another, not to Renly but to Stannis. 

  
  


She trusts her goodbrother to have the best sense of what it could mean to have a loyal young Lannister on their side, especially with the rumors that Joffrey will bestow Storm’s End on Tommen - however much such a thing would be a mere formality - as a gesture of “legitimacy”.

  
  


Such gestures are a game more than one side can play, after all.


	2. Keep Calm and Carry On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which family ties continue to leave confused loyalties in their wake.

In truth, the letter should not come as any kind of surprise, Allyria tells herself. Robb’s letter, the one telling her he had been acclaimed King in the North, making her a queen and their daughters princesses, _that_ had been a surprise.

  
  


 

Well. It had been unexpected, anyway.

  
  


 

Now that Allyria’s had time to think about it, it had actually made a terrible kind of sense. She had been writing her sister, she and Robb had both been writing to Jon, and getting no reply. And Robb couldn’t just wait, not with two armies at hand who wanted to have a plan to follow. So while accepting his bannermen’s acclamation comes with his own problems, she’s not sure what else her husband could have done.

  
  


 

Now, though, they’re in something of a bind. If what Ashara says is true and Cersei’s children are bastards with no right to rule, then Stannis is the rightful king. Of course, some in Dorne would still whisper that no, the rightful king is Viserys Targaryen, but Allyria has no patience for such quibbling. They must deal with the world as it is, and in the world as it is, Robert was king, and if his wife’s children are bastards rather than his own trueborn get, then Stannis is heir to everything that was once his brother’s.

  
  


 

She thinks that Ashara’s letter is an attempt to fix this all quickly and quietly. _If your husband bends the knee promptly, then we can put this behind us and work together to defeat the Lannisters_ , Ashara writes. _If he doesn’t, then I don’t know what will happen, because Stannis has made it clear he will not suffer the loss of half the realm._

  
  


 

Not surprising, really, but Robb can’t simply do that, unless he wishes to seriously damage his standing with his bannermen. Jon’s letter seems more aware of that, she notes as she sets Ashara’s down and picks his up. _I’ve written to Renly, trying to convince him to make some kind of deal, but I’m penned up here at Starfall until I know if I’ll be needed in the Stormlands or in the Reach. Try and stall for time, and maybe together we can fix this,_ says Jon’s letter. _This is why I wanted to tell you sooner, I knew something like this might happen!_

  
  


 

Stall for time. Or, possibly…

  
  


 

Lyarra is Robb’s heir until such time as Allyria gives birth to a son. But, if she could have Robb agree that while a son may inherit Winterfell and the _overlordship_ of the North, the crown of the North can only go to Lyarra, then Lyarra might marry Arthur and the claims be reunited that way.

  
  


 

She doesn’t know if it can possibly work. There’s bound to be objections from the lords, possibly from Robb himself, at the prospect of partially disinheriting a future Stark boy, but the suggestion has to be raised.

  
  


 

But only to Robb. She will write to him and get his opinion before suggesting it even to Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin, on hand to help her govern the North in her husband’s absence. That way, if Robb agrees that it’s an option, she will have his word to back her with his household and his bannermen.

 

 

For the moment, though, she has a castle to run. She pauses by the nursery to check on her girls – Alanna is napping when Allyria looks in, and she's careful not to disturb her. Lyarra, meanwhile, has a little drawing to show her mother, and Allyria smiles, reminded of Edric when he was that small. “Mama, will Papa be home soon?” Lyarra asks, leaning into Allyria's side as Allyria wraps an arm around her shoulders.

 

 

“Not for a while yet, sweetling. But I know he'll be as quick as he can, he won't want to be away for too long.”

 

 

“Promise?”

 

 

“I promise, Lya.”

 

 

There's a knock on the nursery door, and Allyria looks around to see Theon in the doorway. “I'll come back to see you to bed, if not sooner, Lyarra,” Allyria says, before leaving her girls to the septa once again and following Theon out. “What is it?”

 

 

“The men I've been training at Saltspear sent a messenger. Longships sighted off the coast. I've ordered them to raise the chain, but I don't like it, Allyria.”

 

 

Saltspear, and the boom chain. It had been Robb's idea, set in motion as soon as his father left Winterfell. Knowing that Theon was disowned, he'd ordered his friend to build up a force at Saltspear, watchers and fighters who would be ready should there be reavers. Theon, Allyria knows, was never loyal to Ned Stark or to Robert Baratheon, but Robb has his affection if not certain loyalty, and being disowned has left Theon with a need for payback.

 

 

What better way than to be the man responsible for stopping any Ironborn incursions before they start?

 

 

But Theon looks worried, and that worries Allyria. “What is it that troubles you so?”

 

 

“You don't know my father. When I was very young, when the Rebellion happened, I remember my father and grandfather arguing – Grandfather Quellon believed in controlled reaving, or so my uncle the Reader said when I was a bit older, old enough to be taught things. My father felt that we should take advantage of the war to declare independence.”

 

 

“Which is why he revolted years later – he still thought that the divisions ran deep enough that he could pull it off. I don't – ” Except she does. There is civil war again, and this time, Balon Greyjoy has reason to personally hate many of Westeros' great families.

 

 

“What do you think he's going to do?”

 

 

“I don't know,” Theon admits. “He could aim at anyone, really, and get both revenge and spoils. Probably not the Reach, though the Redwynes could be targets I don't think Oldtown will be. I would say Lannisport or the North's western coasts.”

 

 

“Well, then we must be ready.”

  
  


 

<><><>

  
  


 

“Uncle Tywin will see you dead if we don’t win this,” Joy says, head tilted as she considers Tyrek, seated in the chair beside her bed. “You do know that, don’t you? If you’d stayed, Cersei would have found some bride for you that gave the family advantage - an heiress probably like Lady Osgrey or the little one, Lady Hayford.”

  
  


 

“Married to a toddler? No thanks,” Tyrek says, shaking his head. “As for poor Lady Osgrey, when I left it was looking very much like Elinor Tyrell was about to be set aside and Lady Osgrey raised in her place.”

  
  


 

Joy winces at that. Most people would think that calling Rohanne Osgrey “poor” because she will now be a queen makes no sense. Most people who would say that would be those who had never met Joffrey. “We’d heard they split the Reach. That must be how. The Florents had such a grudge to exploit. But Tyrek, really -”

  
  


 

“No, Joy,” Tyrek says flatly. “You can’t have expected anything else. Whatever Uncle Tywin might or might not have done for me, do you really think I could fight on a side that was against yours? Honestly.”

  
  


 

“If this is about - Tyrek, Jon and I -” She thinks of that kiss in the bowels of the Red Keep, thinks of how even now, heavy with her husband’s children and missing Jon with a terrible ache, to have Tyrek back feels like the return of some missing vital piece of herself. How the memory of that startling kiss still makes her pulse race.

  
  


 

“I know that. That isn’t it. We’ve always been the best of friends, all else aside. And anyway, I’m not so badly off as Tion,” Tyrek says, and because they have always been so close, Joy knows he’s sincere. But she also knows there’s something more lurking behind the honesty. She isn’t sure she wants to know what it is, though, so she keeps her silence on the matter.

  
  


 

“What happened to Tion?” she asks instead, trying to sit up more properly in bed. Her cousin Aly left to give her privacy with Tyrek, but he moves to help steady her instead. His hands are very warm through her nightdress.

  
  


 

“Well, Aunt Genna’s never exactly been _subtle_ about how she wants to make him Lord of the Twins. She sent him off to woo his Vance cousin who’s a few places higher in the Frey succession, with the idea that he can marry her, then win his foul grandfather over and be named heir. So, he was with the Vances when Uncle Tywin and Jaime marched forces into the Riverlands. He chose to fight with the Vances rather than spend the war as a hostage.”

  
  


 

Joy imagines that she ought to be surprised. In a way, she is - Aunt Genna certainly would never have meant for her son to take up arms against House Lannister, even to become a lord in his own right. But she knows Tion. Not quite as well as she knows Tyrek, but Tion had never been one of the cousins who disdained her company. Oh, he had often been sharp and mocking, but he was often like that with Tyrek too, who is probably the family member he’s closest to. (Which is one reason why he and Joy had had little choice but to get along.) That’s just always been his way.

  
  


 

Tion is ambitious. He doesn’t really want the Twins, but they’re a goal he can practically work toward, and so he’s always thrown himself into it. Joy suspects he truly wants the Rock, but that would require too many deaths to be plausible. So he’s set his sights on the goal his mother decided on, and Tion is dogged enough to stick with it. It’s a risk, but no greater one than Tyrek took in coming here.

 

 

Uncle Tywin has never been good at rewards that allow even his own brothers to make their own way. Uncle Kevan succeeds by being his brother’s right hand, but he has no lands of his own. He has men who will follow his lead, which is better than nothing, but he’s earned a grant of something more solid many times over. It’s only Uncle Kevan’s genuine loyalty and the fact that he is honestly content as he is that’s kept things from becoming far messier than they are. Everyone in the family knows it.

  
  


 

So Joy isn’t _really_ surprised. There are only so many places at the side of a lord, and less so when there’s no clear-cut heir for younger relatives to rally around. So Tyrek came here, and maybe he did come for her but he also came for opportunity. Tion is with Robb Stark for opportunities of his own. It’s only natural, for all of them.

  
  


 

After all, it’s part of why she set her sights on Jon, before she found herself in love with him.

  
  


 

“So you’re here, and Tion is with Robb Stark,” Joy says. “By the Lady, that is a mess. What did Robb choose to do, anyway? No one else will speak much of the news to me. Aly doesn’t really care about Westerosi news, Arthur comes to visit me but he’s too young, and I think Cressen or Pylos told Shireen not to worry me. Ashara is usually too occupied to stop by.”

  
  


 

“He declared himself King in the North. Or rather, he was acclaimed King, and the Riverlands have seceded with the North, so mayhaps the titling will change. Who can say?”

  
  


 

“Jon said something would go wrong if he wasn’t allowed to contact his brother. No one listened to him,” Joy says, shaking her head.

 

 

“Well, they're listening now, but it might be too late.”

  
  
  


<><><>

  
  


 

The seamstress and her apprentices swarm around Rohanne, moving and pinning folds of cloth as she tries to keep utterly still. She must admit that the dress will be lovely - it is cream silk, a color that will not clash with either of the cloaks she will wear on that day. “I want it to look simple,” she says when her mother begins to speak of embellishments.

  
  


 

“You are to be queen, you cannot wear a simple gown, Rohanne,” Selyse Florent Osgrey says, her voice sharp. Her voice is sharp, and her features stern, yet her mother’s hands are gentle as she pins up Rohanne’s wavy red hair herself, out of the way of the seamstresses. Such is her mother, brusque and distant, yet Rohanne has never truly doubted that her mother loves her in her way.

  
  


 

Even this marriage is well meant, to make a queen of her. That Joffrey is a monster, well, that is bad luck, but no worse than any woman of their rank might expect in an arranged marriage. The late King Robert was hailed as a romantic hero, but Rohanne saw how he treated his wife when the drink was in him, and he was almost constantly in that state.

  
  


 

“Not for the feast afterward, of course not, Mother. But when I visited my smallfolk at home, you and I both followed the advice my late grandfather wrote down, and we dressed simply, so we did not seem to mock the poverty of some of our smallfolk. The city is still in some distress because Lord Stannis on Dragonstone is disrupting trade. Doesn’t the same concept apply?”

  
  


 

“Hmm. She is to wear a golden belt, and her skirt should be trimmed with golden lions and stags,” Lady Selyse rules after a moment’s thought. Lions, for Osgrey and Lannister alike, and stags for Baratheon, which makes sense. But her mother ceases speaking of further decoration, though when the seamstress demonstrates the neckline design, her mother fastens a golden foxhead pendant around her neck. It’s heavier than most of Rohanne’s jewelry, but still not terribly elaborate.

  
  


 

“You must look a queen, Rohanne,” her mother says when they are left alone but for Aly, who keeps so quiet that Rohanne thinks her mother often forgets they aren’t truly alone. “You are right to want to win the crowds, but the Lannisters believe in ostentation. You do not want to insult them. Nor will I allow you to contradict me in front of witnesses. You are still young, and I am your mother, rank aside.”

  
  


 

“Yes, Mother,” Rohanne says. “Still, we need the city to remain loyal.” If she is to do this, to marry a beast of a king, then she is going to make it worth her while and her family’s. Doing that means helping prop up the royal family however she can. It’s not so different, she thinks, than getting a known drunkard of a king to like the wine that comes from her lands. Not so different from sharing out the leftovers from the rare feasts at home, or riding out over her holdings so that her smallfolk knew her.

  
  


 

It can’t be that different, can it?

  
  


 

Well, except for Joffrey. Rohanne tries to tell herself that queens have survived cruel husbands before. Aegon IV was both unfaithful and cruel to his sister-queen Naerys, and the gods alone know what the Mad King did to his sister-queen Rhaella. Maegor the Cruel murdered several of his queens outright. Baelor the Blessed may have been loved by the Seven indeed, but his treatment of his sisters - and Daena the Defiant was his wife in law - was certainly another kind of cruelty. Queen Naerys, delicate as she was, survived to see her son reach manhood, Queen Rhaella had enough spirit even at the end to declare her younger son a king even when all hope for the Targaryen cause was surely lost.

  
  


 

… _Daena the Defiant, on the other hand, is one whom I should not emulate_ , Rohanne decides.

  
  


 

“That is why we have sent food,” her mother is saying. “We are lucky that Lord Stannis is not loved by the commons, here or anywhere else.”

  
  


 

“But Lord Renly is,” Rohanne says. “Lady Ashara and her children are not disliked either, and I heard that among their bannermen, the lady and her children are loved even if her lord husband is not.”

  
  


 

“Ashara Dayne is not disliked here in the city, but there are those among even Renly’s storm lords who do not wish a Dornishwoman on the throne. When Dornish brides were consorts to Targaryens it was tolerated, but it is different now.”

  
  


  
  


“Princess Myrcella is betrothed to a Martell.”

 

 

“Princess Myrcella is last in line for the throne, and her husband will never be Prince of Dorne,” Selyse says, drawing the pins from her daughter's hair and braiding it back instead. “Alliances made in times or war, or to heal the rifts of a previous civil war, can be understood. But never forget that part of why this alliance was made was Tyrion Lannister's argument that a Dornish queen was unacceptable.”

 

 

“I remember,” Rohanne says, staring at herself in the mirror. She wants to tell her mother that Joffrey is cruel, that at his first court session after becoming King, he'd ordered a man's tongue ripped out for an irreverent song. She wants to tell her that during her betrothal, Elinor had always seemed frightened under her Tyrell charm. She wants to ask if one of her Tarly cousins can take her place – they have as much Florent blood as she, their father will be pleased, and surely Lord Tarly is more important than House Osgrey?

 

 

But she knows it doesn't matter. She touches the fox pendant at her neck, and thinks of the lion on her sigil. She will have to embody them both to survive this, one way or another. And since she has no choice, since she cannot even plead with her own mother, then her earlier thoughts must be her guide. She must plan, and she must survive.

 

 

But more than winning the people, to counter the dislike of her betrothed's kin, she must win Joffrey. Elinor kept him mostly calm, but Rohanne doesn't think she got further than that. Rohanne must find a way to do so, to kindle his desire if not his affections. To make him like her, so she will not be his target.

 

 

It is all that she can do, and so she will find a way to do it.

 

 

<><><>

 

 

More than she ever did in Winterfell, Sansa is drawn to the godswood of Highgarden. In truth, it has ever been so – despite the fact that she was a girl who always dreamed of the south, once she was here she did find herself sometimes homesick. In those early years, the trio of entwined weirwoods called the Three Sisters had been a place where she could go to clear her head. A place where she could remember the times her father took all the children out to the godswood at Winterfell.

 

 

Now, hidden by the weeping willows that encircle the Sisters and the pool next to it, it is the only place Sansa finds any peace at all.

 

 

Willas has been spending most of his time closeted away with his father and Garlan – no surprise, now that the Florents have officially declared themselves the true Lords of the Reach, and taken a full section of the Reach with them. From what Sansa has been able to glean, the lords who have defected have lands that half encircle the rest of the Reach, some to the northwest and the rest in the south, which means that help will be slow in coming.

 

 

But Loras managed to slip through with a declaration for King Stannis, and so House Tyrell will follow. Sansa's brother Robb has been named King in the North, and so that means eventually he must either come to terms with or fight whoever succeeds in holding the Iron Throne. Sansa has not put aside her Stark colors, though – she wants to remind her goodfamily that they are wed to House Stark as well as House Baratheon.

 

 

Out among the Tyrells, Sansa cannot forget who she is. Here, alone by the pool with Lady lying beside her, she can breathe. Sansa settles on the grass, closing her eyes and trying to focus only on the sounds around her, the soft splashes of the pool and the wind in the trees. She hears Lady shift beside her, and she can almost feel the grass on her direwolf's paws as Lady gets up –

 

 

“Sansa?”

 

 

Sansa's eyes fly open, and for a moment she's dizzied. She has to look down to see her hands folded in her lap and her feet shod in shoes, the sensation of grass against them is so vivid.

 

 

“Sansa, are you all right?” Willas asks. Sansa nods as he sits down on the bench beside her.

 

 

“I'm sorry, I was just... lost in thought.” It's not the first time such a thing has happened, usually when she's only just waking or drifting off to sleep, it will be as if she is Lady for a moment or two, before she comes truly awake or sleep takes her. She'd meant to write to her siblings, to ask if it happened to them as well, but she didn't have a chance before everything began to run mad. “Is there any news?”

 

 

“A bit of good – we got word to your brother Jon, it's decided that the Dayne forces are best placed helping us rather than joining Renly's forces at Storm's End, so we'll have help. I think it's also to counteract what the Imp used to win a damned third of the Reach away from us.”

 

 

“A Dornish queen, yes,” Sansa says. “So, if that Dornish queen's family – led by her son who is your goodbrother – comes to aid us, it looks well politically. It makes sense. But what of the rest of my family? My brother has been made a king.”

 

 

“The Reach never bowed to Winterfell, Sansa.”

 

 

“Neither did the Riverlands!”

 

 

“They're too far away, the Westerlands and part of the Stormlands and Crownlands separate us. We cannot ally with your brother unless my father was prepared to declare the Reach its own kingdom again. He is not prepared to do that, nor should he be.”

 

 

“I do not say that he should. I'm only saying that we have a responsibility not to abandon them. You and I have that obligation, even if your father doesn't care about it. You said as much yourself, you said that ignoring the ties my marriage brings insult us both.” Sansa shakes her head. “There has to be something we can do, Willas. Jon will agree – Robb is his brother too, and Allyria is his aunt.”

 

 

Perhaps that itself is the problem. They are all so intertwined that no matter what they do, they will betray some kinship.

 

 

“There is something, Sansa. For now, your brother fights the Lannisters, and Stannis and Renly intend to do the same. Renly says that he's convinced Stannis to make no declaration one way or the other regarding Robb. We all have the same enemy for the time being. When the Lannisters are defeated, however, you and I will be in a good position to broker some arrangement between your brother and Stannis. Jon's help may be needed, and would certainly be welcome. But we are in the best place to ensure that this division doesn't come to another war.”

 

 

Sansa can see his reasoning. She even agrees, more or less. She just hates that she's going to have to wait, and be technically an enemy to her brother for the gods know how long. Still, she cannot blame Willas; he is balancing her against his family, and has found the best compromise he's likely to get.

 

 

“I'm not going to stop wearing my colors,” Sansa tells him. “If, as you say, my being a Stark will make us more able to negotiate, then let no one forget it.”

 

 

And when she next sees Jon, the two of them are going to have to talk, because there's no one else who shares her position, and perhaps together they can figure out what to do about it.

 

 

<><><>

 

 

Tion first realizes what they must be doing three days into their march. At first, he'd assumed they were trying to confuse any watchers, but now he knows better. Now, when Robb Stark has called him to a meeting of the lords, and asked about the Westerlands, quizzed on the accuracy of the maps they have.

 

 

While he answers, as honestly as he can, the direwolf Grey Wind watches him steadily. Still, at least the wolf only watches, and doesn't growl at him the way he growled at Cleos. That memory, of his brother trembling and frightened as Robb Stark gave him terms to take to Cersei and Tyrion in King's Landing, will not soon leave Tion's mind. Nor will the look of utter betrayal his brother gave him.

 

 

And Cleos does not know, because Tion begged his new king not to mention it, that Tion's squire, Cleos' own son Tywin, is with him. Ty followed him here and Tion feels guilty for it, but what can he do about it now but protect his nephew as he would protect his own son? If they win and he gets the Twins like this whole scheme began for, then he will make sure Ty is cared for.

 

 

 _And maybe I'll get a better castle_ , a voice inside him whispers, one that he tries to ignore. He is not in this to steal the Rock from his cousins, he tells himself. And it is true, but that doesn't mean he won't try for it, should his new king offer it. Then he will be Lord Lannister, he will be able to provide even more for his nephews – Cleos' wife is a Darry, that should protect her from a triumphant North-Trident kingdom.

 

 

And this thought, which he tries not to think, is more compelling than ever because Tion knows that they are marching toward the Westerlands. They are not aiming at King's Landing or going to besiege Uncle Tywin at Harrenhal. No, they are taking advantage of the fact that Uncle Kevan is in the south, leading his forces into the Stormlands to go up against Stannis and Renly Baratheon. They will attack the West.

 

 

It's a clever idea. Like the other boys reared at Casterly Rock, Tion knows how his uncle thinks. He'd settled in at Harrenhal in part as bait for King Robb, who he must think of as a reckless boy. But this, this will be entirely unexpected. No one would have thought the young, all-but-untried Robb Stark would dare invade the Westerlands.

 

 

“Lannisport has a new Steward,” one of the lords is saying – a Northern lord, Tion hasn't caught his name just yet. “Damion Lannister, some nephew to Lord Tywin through his wife.”

 

 

Damion? But – “That information must be incorrect,” Tion interrupts in spite of himself.

 

 

“Excuse me, boy?” the Northerner snaps, but King Robb holds up a hand, eyeing Tion curiously.

 

 

“Why do you say so, Tion Frey?”

 

 

“Well, Damion is a Lannister of the Rock. From a lower level of the cliff, to be sure – he's the son of my grandfather's brother – but he's a Lannister of the Rock. He cannot be the new Steward of Lannisport.”

 

 

“Why not?” This from Lady Mormont, who looks more puzzled than skeptical. “Surely Tywin Lannister can appoint whoever he wants?”

 

 

“Technically, yes,” Tion says. “But in practice, never. It was part of the arrangement made, or so our family histories say. When the Lannisters of Lannisport gave up their own crown and bowed to the Rock, it was understood that the Stewards would always be of the Lannisport line. They raise all their boys to be prepared for it. That way, the Lord Lannister at the Rock can pick the best-suited of them, but always one of them. Damion... His mother was a Lannisport Lannister, but he's of the Rock, it doesn't count.”

 

 

Brynden Tully's eyes, as bright a blue as his nephew's but far sharper with all they have seen in his years, narrow as he listens to Tion's words. “So what you are telling us, Frey, is that your uncle might have given deadly insult to the family meant to rule Lannisport for him?”

 

 

Tion swallows hard. “It's just possible, Ser Brynden, that Damion will be tolerated, but I find it unlikely. And the Lannisport Lannisters...” In for a groat, in for a dragon. “The truth is, it is the bronze lion that is followed in Lannisport. That is why we've kept to the ancient agreements, because the Rock cannot truly hold Lannisport without them. The Lannisport Lannisters have intermarried even with the richer merchant families, and they are loved.” As Tion's own kin have never been loved anywhere.

 

 

“That could be very useful information indeed, depending on what chances we have,” Robb Stark says thoughtfully, and Tion tries not to think of how he has, yet again, betrayed his family. But he also can't help but think that a new Lord of the Rock could wed a Lannisport Lannister and fix this mess, but that no heir of Uncle Tywin would ever do so because Uncle Tywin would never admit he had been wrong...

 

 

<><><>

 

 

Shiera sees them off, as a good steward ought to do. Jon rides away at the head of a column of men, Ghost a white shadow at his side, matched by the white wolf's-head of Jon's sword hilt. Shiera knows the blade was a gift from Shireen and Arthur, that below the wolf's head is an engraving of the falling star of the Dayne sigil.

 

 

Jon refused Dawn, saying that there was no time for the formal combat trials, and he would not sully the blade by carrying it without them. The combat trials are open to all males of House Dayne, sometimes open even to bastards of the house, and the winner becomes the Sword of the Morning. Jon is right to refuse, Shiera knows, even if she does find herself wishing her cousin could be protected by the realm's most famous sword.

 

 

But they are riding out now, and she is left to run Starfall. At first, Shiera had thought that she might have to leave it in someone else's hands, but she has not been summoned back to Princess Arianne's service. In fact, there is no word of Princess Arianne, how her marriage has been received or if it will even be upheld. Truthfully, consummated or not, Shiera rather thinks that if Prince Doran wants to find a way to have the marriage set aside, he will do it.

 

 

Or he'll seek the assistance of his brother.

 

 

But so long as Shiera is not required to return to her post, it does not matter. Ancharia is still there, but she has only been able to send one raven, saying that they are all now at Sunspear and little else. So Shiera puts it from her mind.

 

 

Starfall and its sworn houses are at war, the duty due to blood stronger even than that due to one's liege lord. And so when a raven arrives sealed with the sun and spear of House Martell, ordering the Dayne men to stand down as Dorne is neutral in this war, Shiera writes back that her cousin has already left to come to the aid of his sister, Sansa Stark Tyrell, whose family by marriage is beset by traitors to _their_ liege lord.

 

 

This is why Jon was sent to the Reach, in fact. By staying out of the larger war against the Lannisters, they can claim that they are not truly defying their prince's declared neutrality; Jon is simply defending his sister against rebels in the lands her husband is heir to. It also means that, should it come to war between Baratheon and Stark, Jon is not likely to be present and forced to choose between his families.

 

 

“It also means you and Sansa will be together, and you might find a way to settle things between Robb and Stannis,” Shiera had told Jon when the orders came down.

 

 

For Shiera, there are other concerns. And so she takes herself down to the falls again, her jackal Brynden trotting along at her side. Shiera lays in the grass below the mist of the falls, staring up into it. She breathes slow and deep, letting her eyes go out of focus, not letting herself blink even when water clings to her lashes.

 

 

The water singers of the Rhoyne, her old nurse taught her, could see in bowls of water, in the ripples of the river, in the mist of waterfalls. Time itself is a river like the Rhoyne, and every bend, every new current, is a path that could be taken, or a path that already _was_ followed.

 

 

Here under the mist, Shiera's vision fractures into blurred rainbows, and for a moment she doesn't feel herself, laid out on the ground, she feels the grass and the cool water of the small pool here on her hands and feet as if she were walking on all fours –

 

 

A shake of her head (was it her head when no long hair brushed her cheeks, when she thought she felt her ears twitch as human ears cannot do?) and she is herself again, but drifting into the mist somehow, her breathing the rush of the falls, her heartbeat the waves of the sea far below. The mist is like a river, she sees, moving with the currents of the air. A breeze from the mainland and she sees cairns made of rubble, and she knows a tower once stood there because she can see it too, can see a dark-haired girl, big with child, banging on the closed door and a white-armored knight beyond it cringing but standing fast.

 

 

But no. No, I have seen this before, I do not need to know it. Show me the blue eyes, the woman in the flame.

 

 

Instead, she sees a boy, and she knows him for Jon's brother because he looks so very like Sansa. There is a raven on his shoulder and his bright blue eyes are unseeing. He is blind, Shiera realizes, and then –

 

 

There is a blue-haired boy and the shape of his mouth is the same as Shiera sees in her own reflection, and on either side of him are black-haired identical twins, and their eyes are purple.

 

 

There are two girls kissing under a lemon tree, and beside them is a dog, no, a wolf, a direwolf, is that -?

 

 

There is Robb Stark, whispering in the shadows, and a camp ahead of him flying Lannister banners.

 

 

A redheaded green-eyed girl with a circlet of golden antlers on her head and a fox pendant at her throat, lions on her dress, a young woman with the silver-gold hair of the Targaryens and she is crowned too, a dragon crown with heads of jade and ivory and onyx.

 

 

There are three young dragons flying through the air and beings carved of ice with glowing blue eyes – and there is a girl of Shiera's own age, her white-blond hair whipping in the wind, her dark eyes fixed on nothing as if she can see on the air the way Shiera sees in the mist...

 


End file.
